


Things I Didn't Say

by MrsMusicAddict



Series: Miscommunication [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: After HLV, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Not A Happy Ending, Pining, Poor John, Poor Sherlock, Songfic, although a part 2 with happy ending is a possibility, angsty, i can't deal with unhappy endings ha, i suck at tagging i'm sorry, john is married, no Moriarty threat though, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6584770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMusicAddict/pseuds/MrsMusicAddict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs Hudson calls John because she's worried about Sherlock. John, being the good friend that he is, rushes over to try and help. The outcome is not what he expected. Not. At. All.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things I Didn't Say

**Author's Note:**

> I am working on loads of things, especially my NaNoWriMo project that got me back into writing again, but this popped into my head as I was on my bus home from Paris, and it wouldn't let me go so I decided to write it. This is the first truly angsty thing I have ever written, so be kind if it sucks haha! Reviews are very welcome, too, just to see how I did.
> 
> The story is somewhat canon-compliant. It's set after HLV, about a month or so, and there's no Moriarty threat.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Sir ACD, and these specific versions belong to Mofftiss and the BBC. The song belongs to Adam Lambert, and if you want the full impact of feels, listen to it as soon as the lyrics (italic) start.

John hurriedly makes his way over to his former flat. Mrs. Hudson had called him that morning, worried about Sherlock. Apparently he hasn’t been eating, drinking, or sleeping, for at least two days straight. Neither is he talking, or taking cases. Mrs. Hudson also mentioned a song that had been on repeat, so she had urged him to come over, see if he could find out what was going on.

When John enters the apartment he is hit with a Sherlock who, frankly, looks miserable. Curled up on the couch, the pain visible in his shoulders, tensing at his presence.

John sits in Sherlock’s chair, he is surprised to find his own gone. He knows he should have come by sooner, called sooner, but if he was honest with himself he had kind of expected Sherlock to reach out to him in a fit of boredom, or a case. He’d just assumed Sherlock was busy when he didn’t hear anything.

He waits for his former flat mate to acknowledge him, but when after half an hour nothing had happened, John clears his throat.

“Talk to me, Sherlock. Tell me what happened that got you in such a state, listening to a song on repeat for days, a song you would normally scoff at, even. So talk to me.”

It remains quiet, except for the music, and John feels himself grow more worried by the second, but also more angry at Sherlock’s blatant ignoring of him. He is his best friend for Christ’s sake!

Afterwards it struck John that he hadn’t been paying attention to the song Sherlock had on repeat when he was there. He had been focused on his former flat mate only, his worry overtaking everything else. He knew he should have. All of this could have been avoided if he had just paid attention! Had Sherlock taught him nothing?

Hindsight could be a real bitch.

When John opens his mouth again to try and coax something out of his best friend, Sherlock suddenly gets up in a flurry, dressing gown billowing around him. Without saying anything he grabs his laptop, and after sitting back down, he opens it and starts typing furiously.

John feels his throat close up. If he needed any more confirmation, this was it. He got it. Sherlock was actually ignoring him, purposefully. It hurts him more than he’d like to admit. Maybe it was his own fault, for thinking that after everything that had happened, Sherlock actually cared for him.

He gets up, the urge suddenly striking him to get out of there, now.

“Don’t think I’m giving up this easily, Sherlock. I’ll be back every day until you start talking. If you don’t want to do that for me, think of Mrs. Hudson. She worries, okay?”

He waits for an answer he’s not really expecting. When all he gets in reply is more typing, he turns around to walk out the door, down the stairs, outside, wondering if the barely concealed anguish he just saw in Sherlock’s eyes while he was typing would ever leave his mind, or if it would haunt him instead.

John sigs, hails a cab, and goes back home.

Tomorrow, he tells himself. Tomorrow, he’ll try again.

* * *

John is reading through his old blogposts, when the doorbell rings; Mary is out, God knows where, and John had felt nostalgic after leaving Sherlock earlier. Confused, as he is not expecting anyone, John gets up to open the door.

“Dr. John Watson?”

“Ehm, yes, that’s me,” John answers the mail man.

“Good. Could you sign here, please?”

John signs the form in front of him and gets handed a manila envelope. The familiar scrawl makes his breath catch and heart thump in fear. He quickly rushes out a thank you and closes the door, immediately ripping open the envelope, as he makes his way back to the couch.

Two sheets of paper slide out, and with his heart beating erratically in his chest, he starts reading.

* * *

_Maybe I got it wrong_  
“It’s a trick. Just a magic trick.”  
I tried to tell you. I needed you to know.  
  
_How did I turn you off?_  
“Short version- not dead. Are you really going to keep that?”  
Was it- You forgave me, right? I still haven’t found the right words to apologize.  
“Forgive me, for all the hurt that I’ve caused you.”  
  
_'Cause now you're out of my reach_  
“Because you chose her.”  
  
_Maybe I played too safe_  
“Quite a busy little bee.”  
That’s what Mycroft called me after I had dismantled Moriarty’s network. I’m sorry it took me so long. You were all I cared about. Remember?  
“I’ve nearly been in contact so many times.”  
  
_How did I pull away?_  
“Caring is not an advantage.”  
That’s what I’ve always been told.  
  
_Am I too blinded to see?_  
“He’s got on with his life,” Mycroft said.  
“What life? I’ve been away.”  
Ironic, isn’t it? How blind even I can be.

 _I'd been hoping you'd catch up somehow_  
_Like I'm way too far ahead_  
“We’re going out tonight.”  
  
_Every time I think I'm gaining ground_  
_I'm misunderstood again_  
“That’s what I was suggesting.”

 _I thought that I said it_  
_In the things that I didn't say_  
“Just the two of us against the rest of the world.”  
  
_I thought that you felt it_  
_In the games that I didn't play_  
“Girlfriend? No, not really my area.”  
  
_So let the record show_  
_I never let you go_  
“I’m really not looking for any…”  
… and yet I kept you around. Voluntarily.  
  
_Can we get back on track_  
“Want to see some more?”  
  
_I thought that I said it_  
_In the things that I didn't say_  
“I like company when I go out.”  
I really don’t.  
 

 _What if I shout it out_  
“A month! That’s all it took!”  
It just hurt too much. I’m sorry.  
  
_What if I take a vow_  
“My first and last vow.”  
All for you.  
  
_Wouldn't you think it's too much?_  
“I don’t mind.”  
I didn’t either.  
  
_What do you want from me_  
_Thought it was going deep_  
_Guess it was never enough_  
“I’m a high functioning sociopath. Merry Christmas.”

 _I'd been hoping you'd catch up somehow_  
_Like I'm way too far ahead_  
“You do see, but you don’t observe.”  
No matter how many times I said this, you never did. How you never noticed I could hardly take my eyes off you- a miracle. Or did you notice, and just not tell me?  
  
_Every time I think I'm gaining ground_  
_I'm misunderstood again_  
“I’d be lost without my blogger.”

 _I thought that I said it_  
_In the things that I didn't say_  
“You are the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing. I am a ridiculous man, redeemed only by the warmth and consistency of your friendship.”  
  
_I thought that you felt it_  
_In the games that I didn't play_  
“But we both know that’s not quite true.”  
Even he knew.  
  
_So let the record show_  
_I never let you go_  
“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”  
Writing that speech… It nearly killed me.  
  
_Can we get back on track_  
“You keep me right.”  
  
_I thought that I said it_  
_In the things that I didn't say_  
“Sherlock’s actually a girl’s name.”

You are the exception to my every rule. I care for you, more than I ever have for anyone. Surely you know that?

And still, I could never tell you. In fear of scaring you away, of losing you. I can’t function without you. But now that I’ve already lost you… What else is there for me to lose?

I love you, John.

I’m sorry.

Goodbye.

-SH

* * *

John rushes out the door, tears in his eyes, his heart still furiously pumping. He frantically hails a cab, papers still clutched in his hand. He runs up the steps, hoping that he’s not too late.

He swings the door open.

“Sherlock!” he yells.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Watson.”

“Mycroft!” John exclaims. “Where is Sherlock? Please, I-“

“He’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone!?” John yells. This cannot be happening.

“I don’t know where he is. By the time I realized something was wrong, he’d already left.” Mycroft picks up something from the table, holding it out for him to take, a sad look in his eyes.

John slowly holds out his hand, and Mycroft lets go of the CD. He quickly scans the track list and his eyes fill with tears when he sees what has to be the song Sherlock had been listening to.

He opens the case, out of habit, and a note falls out. He picks it up, letting the tears fall as the meaning of it sets in.

**_I’m truly sorry, John. I never meant for this to happen. I thought I could be above this. I was wrong.  
Be happy, and take care of yourself, alright? Don’t waste your time in trying to find me. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it. -SH_ **

Tears streaming down his face, sobs escaping him softly, he doesn’t notice Mycroft leaving quietly.

There’s only one thought that’s left in his mind, yelling at him, blaming himself.

The things I didn’t say, indeed.


End file.
